


In accordance to...

by keyrousse



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, Not permitted to display outside AO3, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 15:49:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20028358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyrousse/pseuds/keyrousse
Summary: God knows everything. Crowley and Aziraphale are worried. Gabriel passes a message.





	In accordance to...

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a [post on Tumblr](https://keyrousse.tumblr.com/post/186253737938/crowleysglasses-neil-gaiman). My plot bunny just went and bit me in the ass, then ran away, all happy.  
It contains the quote from Robert Green Ingersoll.  
No plot, mostly talking, but it's not dialogue-only. It tries to be. But IS NOT.

“My Lord, we still don't know how Principality Aziraphale and demon Crowley escaped punishment.”

“I do. They swapped their bodies the night after the would-be Armageddon. Rather clever of them, don't you think? And brave.”

“My Lord?”

“An angel and a demon, joining forces to defend the Earth, humanity, helping the Antichrist make the impossible choice, then taking an enormous risk to protect each other. Isn’t it amazing?”

“They defied Your Plan, my Lord, and met no consequences.”

“My Plan? The Ineffable Plan? What was it, then?”

“Well…”

“Exactly.”

“Isn’t fraternizing with the enemy…”

“Crowley is hardly an enemy. He saved Aziraphale many times, and his evil doing was more of a mischief than true evil. And Aziraphale did a good job balancing him out.”

“So they will not face Your judgement, I take it.”

“I judged them for the last 6000 years. I’ve seen their little Arrangement. For a demon, Crowley is delightfully angelic with his imagination and little miracles. He didn’t forget who he was before he Fell.”

“And Aziraphale?”

“Is a much better material for an Archangel than any of the four we have. Heaven and Hell were so eager to fight each other, and it took a single angel and a single demon to stand on the side of humanity. They chose to protect my creation, I cannot punish them for that. The Time of Punishment ended with the birth of my Son. We have Time of Mercy now, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Do You want us to pass them the message?”

“I want Gabriel to do it. He needs a little humility.”

* * *

“‘If the account given in Genesis is really true, ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent? He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilization.’”

“Bullshit.”

“But it’s true.”

“You really think that?”

“Of course, my dear. To be honest, there’s no word in here I disagree with.”

Crowley, sprawled on the couch in the bookshop, a glass of brandy in one hand, glanced at Aziraphale over the rim of his sunglasses. The angel was sitting at the desk, glasses on his nose, and a very smug expression on his face while he read his book.

“Never seen it that way,” Crowley murmured.

“Of course not. You were just making some trouble, if I recall correctly. You also saved hundreds of children from the Deluge, filled the audience for “Hamlet”, and saved my corporation from the Nazis. Evil deeds, indeed.”

“Ah, shut it.”

Aziraphale smirked.

Crowley never knew how to take a compliment.

The days after their trials were calm. They were settling into the new reality of freedom from their respective Head Offices. Aziraphale admitted to some pangs of fear over their little body-swapping scheme being discovered, but neither Hell nor Heaven came for them to put them through proper executions. The angel knew he hadn’t had a trial: Crowley revealed it after some very insistent prying. Crowley could see Aziraphale had a hard time holding onto what was left of his faith. He succeeded, apparently, as he didn’t fall, at least not yet. Crowley was sure that a few more days of silence and it might change; he wasn’t in a hurry to see anyone from his own Office. He knew the angel hoped that the Archangels’ will wasn’t the one of the Almighty, and it was enough to keep him in Lord’s favour. The peace didn’t calm Aziraphale’s nerves, though, quite the opposite: he just waited for the other shoe to drop. Crowley was working hard to calm him down, convinced that the Offices had better things to do than bother them, but the conversation over Robert Green Ingersoll’s works was only one of the very few distractions.

The angel preferred to keep the shop closed for now, and Crowley agreed. They weren’t in a mood for interacting with unwanted customers, so when the bell over the door chimed, they were startled.

Something in the air changed. They glanced at each other and went together to investigate.

Gabriel, standing in the middle of the shop floor, wasn’t a welcome sight. Crowley bared his teeth, Aziraphale tensed.

“Ah, good you’re here,” the Archangel said. He was wearing his cream coat and a suit; he held a file in his hands, close to his chest.

“I thought I’d be left alone,” Aziraphale said with disdain.

“You will be. Both of you. I have a message for you. From the very top.”

“Oh.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up his forehead.

“I bet the Almighty chose you specifically?” he said.

Gabriel pursed his lips.

“With the threat of dire consequences if you refused?” Crowley continued with a satisfied, if not mocking, smile.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes at the demon.

There was a specific air around the Archangel, it carried a faint scent of guilt. While Crowley had lost the ability to sense love and other positive feelings after his Fall, the aura around the Archangel was strong enough even for him to detect it.

“You don’t refuse the Almighty’s request,” Gabriel admitted.

“So, what’s the message?” Aziraphale asked, stopping Crowley from boasting any more.

Gabriel cleared his throat and addressed Aziraphale: “The Almighty requires you to continue your mission protecting the humanity, providing miracles and necessary nudge in the favorable direction,” he recited. His face was blank, tone business-like. He turned to Crowley. “As of you, demon… it is our Lord’s will for you to assist Aziraphale in his mission—”

“What?” Crowley choked out.

“—as it goes in accordance to the Ineffable Plan,” Gabriel finished.

Heavy silence fell over the bookshop. Crowley and Aziraphale stood before the Archangel, side by side, unable to utter a single word, eyes wide behind their glasses, mouths open.

Gabriel let them process the news for a few seconds, then he continued:

“Moreover, I am to provide you with protective wards you can use to shield you from those who may want to… intervene. Not from all evil, of course, just the, you know—” he made a vague gesture at Crowley, “—other, than…” He pointed at Crowley and gave up trying to say anything else with a defeated exhale. He passed the file to Aziraphale, who took it with a shaking hand, still staring at Gabriel.

“Are you telling me I’m under Heaven’s protection now?” Crowley uttered after another few seconds of silence.

“The Almighty’s,” Gabriel corrected. “I would love to know how you both survived your trials—”

“Executions,” Aziraphale murmured.

“—but all of Heaven got their message. You can’t be touched, not by us. If Hell tries anything, well. We may see the Lord’s wrath. Unless, of course, you go strictly against your mission, then...”

“Why would the Almighty protect a demon?” Crowley wondered. It was all nice and well, but he hadn't been so confused in all of over six thousand years of his existence.

“I don’t know. You could ask Her, but I can see that would be a little bit of a problem,” Gabriel snapped, finally letting disdain show on his face. He clearly hated to be here, speak to this angel and a demon, who got a free will and had decided to go against the Great Plan, only because they had had a spark of hope they had been doing the right thing.

“We’ll figure it out,” said Aziraphale as he put a calming hand on Crowley’s shoulder. “Thank you for letting us know.”

Gabriel looked like he wanted to say something unpleasant, but he stuttered. It took him a moment of visible struggle.

“A small advice,” he said; the words seemed forced, like he was saying something exactly opposite to what he intended. “Try to not get discorporated, as the quartermaster wasn’t too happy with your little trick with the globe.”

“Ah, yes.” Aziraphale smiled with a bit of a wiggle, ashamed. Crowley glanced at him, curious.

“I’ll see myself out. Hope we won’t meet again,” Gabriel drawled through clenched teeth, turned around and left the shop.

Crowley and Aziraphale watched him go, the file with the wards clutched in the angel’s hand.

“Well,” Aziraphale breathed as the bell chimed again and the door closed. He opened the file and glanced at the contents. “You could use it at your flat,” he observed. He looked up and saw that Crowley removed his sunglasses and was staring at him.

“Why would the Almighty protect a demon?” he repeated.

“Well, you keep saying you never really Fell, that you didn’t want to, you only asked questions, which comes in accordance to what I read before Gabriel came here,” Aziraphale replied, clearly calmer than the demon, and with a hand on Crowley’s elbow he lead his friend back deeper into the shop, wearing that stupid, beautiful, goofy smile. “Maybe the Lord sees it in similar way. You never fully lost the Grace, and, as we just learnt, all your actions go with the Ineffable Plan.”

“I honestly don’t know what to think, whether to be happy or angry,” Crowley admitted and plopped onto the couch, hanging his feet over the armrest. He drank the rest of his brandy in one go.

The angel sat at his desk and started to study the wards.

“It was all very unexpected,” Aziraphale agreed.

Crowley glanced at him.

“It restored some of your faith, didn’t it?”

Aziraphale shot him a quick look.

“And strengthened yours,” he observed.

Crowley opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He wanted to argue that he never had any faith, but then he would lie. He rarely lied to Aziraphale, and only for good reasons. This wasn’t good enough.

All he knew was that the tension of the last few days diminished. The air was light again, the sun was shining more brightly. They had their flats, plants, books and the mission. They had each other, now under God’s protection. Life would go on.

**Author's Note:**

> No beta, we fall like Crowley. Also, I’m not a native English speaker, so if you want to leave a comment (highly appreciated), please be gentle about my grammar and punctuation.  
Kudos are fine, too, with comments they feed my feral plot bunny. Now can someone please get the fluffy trash back to The Witcher fandom, I really need to finish that WIP! ;)


End file.
